Demons Chase
by K.Maca93
Summary: Due to a mysterious and strangely convenient accident in the Unseen University, Sam Vimes finds himself in a strange new world where a certain Doctor guards, the river isn't solid and the policemen wear, of all things, blue. Odd indeed.
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing in this story except the plot. All Discworld series characters and locations belong to Terry Pratchett, everything from the Doctor Who universe belongs to whoever it is that actually owns them...

Well this is my first ever attempt to write anything. Ever. So with that in mind I would love to receive any and all constructive criticism that I can get. It will help my writing and hopefully feed back into a better story for everyone.

This story is set after the events of "_Snuff_" and series 6 of Doctor Who, and as such there will be references to the events in both the Discworld series and Doctor Who. Stumble across spoilers at your own risk, however, a detailed knowledge of either series is not needed.

* * *

><p>The twin cities of affluent Ankh and petulant Morpork could best be described by visitors to its streets as "unique". Usually that was conveyed in the same tone of voice as someone who is just too polite to say what they <em>really<em> mean. It's people too were very unique, but generally any talk of _them_ was of a far less polite nature. The only thing that nobody could accuse it's many and varied residents of would be a lack of patriotism.* Being amongst the largest and most diverse cities on the Disc, it was also one of the most important. Ankh-Morpork had grown together from the two cities on either side of the river Ankh. The word river is used in this case very, very loosely, as the Ankh was probably the only river on the Disc where the land on either side moved faster than the river itself.

His Grace, the Duke of Ankh, Commander (and ex-Blackboard Monitor) Sir Samuel Vimes was currently in a most sticky and mind numbingly boring of situations. Things had not gone well from the start, when an unsuspecting noble had almost greeted him with the use of his full title, only to suddenly find himself eye-to-eye and back-to-wall with a very irate Vimes, who had hissed, "Just Commander" at the unfortunate offender.

"Well now, as I see it…". Came an old sounding voice, full of the natural authority that came from generations of nobility. It was the same voice that his wife, Sybil, used whenever she really wanted something done. However, this voice belonged to none other than Lord Rust. How that fool had managed to keep the majority of the nobles behind him after the shameful banishment and subsequent, as Lord Vetinari put it, "tragically unforeseeable" death of his son was a mystery that Vimes didn't care to untangle. "…The people just need to put some damn effort in and they will…"

It was Sybil's fault that he had to endure these endless balls and dinners, but she had insisted, and a happy Sybil meant a happy Samuel Vimes. Dragging his wandering mind back to matters at hand, he noticed that Rust had just finished talking and was now looking at him expectantly.

"Err… What was it you were saying again?" He asked, resulting in a wave of polite laughs rippling along the table of the kind that seemed to be designed to push his already frayed temper over the edge.

Luckily for him it was that precise moment that Captain Carrot strode in, causing the necks of everyone in the room to suffer whiplash. Walking straight up to Vimes he saluted and simply said: "We've found him".

Vimes was out the up and out the door so fast anyone who blinked could have sworn that he had just disappeared. Sybil just sat, a strange mix of irritation, affection and pride on her face, and announced, "do pass over the parsnips".  
>~~~~~~~~~~~~<p>

Vimes' feet pounded the cobbles as he raced through street and alley after his target. He felt his breath come short and fast and his pace slacken slightly.

"Bloody aging," he growled loudly, words stopping for breath halfway through as he ran. "Angua, head down that way and cut him off, we have him!"

The large wolfhound running alongside him seemed to nod, turned and sprinted down the adjacent street. Forcing himself to keep up the pace going around the corner he heard the terrified shout from the other end of the street as a man suddenly found himself staring up into the eyes, or perhaps more accurately the teeth of a large and very angry canine. "We've got you now," said Vimes to himself as he slowed down. The murderer wasn't going anywhere anyway, so he saw no problem with this course of action. Of course, this being the Discworld, it was a very bad assumption to make.

Suddenly all he could see was light.  
>~~~~~~~~~~~~<p>

_Twenty seconds earlier…_

"Sir, we have a problem!" shouted Ponder Stibbons, head of Inadvisably Applied Magic of the Unseen University as he sprinted into a scene of unnatural carnage. "It's in the High Energy Magic Building!"

"What is it this time?" Came the booming yet slightly muffled voice of Archchancellor Ridcully, "Can't you see I'm in the middle of dinner?" This was, of course, the most important time of a Wizard's day. As such, the very fact that Stibbons had interrupted it brought a shiver of foreboding to Ridcully's mind. Or would have, if he hadn't at that precise moment spotted one of Glenda Sugarbeans famous pies.

"S-s-s-s-sir," spluttered Ponder, "It's a massive build-up of energy."

"Oh, is that all", he sighed, relief flooding through him. "I hardly think it cause to interu…" Suddenly a thought occurred to him, a truly terrible thought. "What _kind _of energy Stibbons?" He asked, eyes narrowing. Ponder almost visibly shrank under his gaze and could only squeak out one word.

"Quantum".

With an almost supernatural sense of timing it was then that the entire room was filled with a split second of unnatural light. It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, bringing the dazed Wizards back to their senses.

"What in the blazes was that?" Ridcully roared.  
>~~~~~~~~~~~~<p>

As Vimes' consciousness slowly dragged itself back to reality, he began to get a feeling of Difference. This was not the sort of mere difference like the one between a seamstress and a genuine Ankh-Morpork "seamstress." This was Difference with a capital D. A sort of super-difference if you will. Cranking open one heavy eyelid an attempt to scout his immediate surroundings had proven to be an incredibly bad idea as he immediately slammed it shut again from pain. However, he had managed to get a glimpse of where he was. Although he was still light-headed, and his sight somewhat blurred, he could tell that it was almost nightfall. The sun cast long shadows from the buildings around him as it started to descend below the Disc, giving the world a stretched and dreamlike look. Now his policeman's instinct kicked in and he stumbled to his feet.

It is a little known fact that every street in every city has its own unique feel,* and a lifetime of experience with both the best and, more commonly, worst that the twin cities of Ankh and Morpork had to offer had left Vimes with the uncanny ability to pick out exactly where he was in most of them just through the feeling of cobbles under his custom thin-soled boots. The feeling creeping up his body and registering in his brain was not one that any policeman wanted ever to feel. It was a feeling of non-recognition, which could only mean one thing…

He was lost. Being lost was a dangerous business. Being lost meant not knowing where you were. In some places on the Disc not knowing where you were meant that you would soon be dead, indeed, at least half of Ankh-Morpork probably fell under that description! Although recently Vimes had expanded the power of the watch and made clear exactly what would happen if you laid a finger on anyone under his command. The presence of Sgt. Detritus had probably helped in that regard. Nobody wanted to anger a troll, especially one with an affinity for excessively large weaponry.* But Vimes' feet now knew something important. They knew that he wasn't in Ankh-Morpork any more, and as they relayed that message to his head it occurred to his brain that people here might be a little less wary of tangling with a copper than would be preferable. This thought alone instantly cleared his head and put him on alert, scanning the surroundings with a trained glance in as many directions in as short a time as possible.

He had found himself somewhere that was plainly a city, although not like any city he had seen before. That was a kind of blessing at least, events never seemed to go well when he was away from one. That incident in Uberwald with the werewolves jumped out from his memory as being particularly unpleasant. More recently, his first time at the Ramkin country estate had almost killed him more times that he could count. Then again, thought Vimes, frowning as he did so, his time in the city had hardly been less dangerous. He was dragged away from his contemplation by the sight of two men running along the opposite side of the street. No, not running. Chasing! Something within Vimes stood to attention as he watched, spotting a third man almost instantly. There was something strange about him that caught Vimes' trained eye, despite only getting a brief glimpse at his face as he streaked past. It was an unusual face, both in appearance and expression, stretched and with a rather large chin, somehow boyish and yet aged, set with determination, but also sheer unadulterated joy. His long, floppy looking hair seemed to have a life of its own as he ran. The clothes too were strange, although the chasers were themselves hardly innocent on that account. A tweed overcoat flapped over a shirt, and just what was that ridiculous thing around his neck? Vimes generally disapproved of any item that went around a neck. They were far too easy to grab in a fight and besides, look at the damn thing! All this he saw in just a small moment, and already that ever present coppers sense that he had learned to trust was telling him that something wasn't right.

Curiosity peaked, Vimes took in the two other men. Samuel Vimes knew the look of a copper from a mile away, and the two chasers were clearly such, despite their outlandish and seemingly impractical blue uniform. He also knew the look of rookies.  
>"Bloody amateurs," he growled. The two unfortunate policemen were having no luck whatsoever in reaching their target. The strange man had too much of a lead. Far too fast as well. If anything it seemed that he wasn't really paying attention to the men pursuing him… Vimes scowled inwardly at that thought, he didn't like it when criminals played silly buggers, even when it was, as far as he knew, out of his jurisdiction.<p>

A split second later he found himself chasing after the policemen, a decision seemingly made independently by his feet long before his head could have any say in the matter. It was a state of affairs that his head didn't appreciate one little bit thank you very much. Despite this, Vimes felt a ray of happiness penetrate the cloud of confusion and anger at the recent turn of events as he rounded a corner. This was what life was about at its most basic, the chase. A criminal and the pursuing copper. Besides, he had a few questions for two certain gentlemen.

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><p>*1) What you absolutely could accuse them of would be everything else under the sun<p>

*2) Cobble Street was well known to Sam Vimes as being especially hairy. Whatever turn of events had lead to that strange situation did not bear thinking about.

*3) The Piecemaker crossbow/ballista/doomsday weapon was feared instinctually by people and elephants alike as an enemy even greater than mice. Every time it was fired the world shook, not because of the power of the device, but from the combined shiver that ran down the spine of all four World Elephants upon whose backs the world rested.


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing in this story except the plot. All Discworld series characters and locations belong to Terry Pratchett, everything from the Doctor Who universe belongs to whoever it is that actually owns them...

Well this is my first ever attempt to write anything. Ever. So with that in mind I would love to receive any and all constructive criticism that I can get (REVIEW ME PLEASE!). It will help my writing and hopefully feed back into a better story for everyone.

This story is set after the events of "_Snuff_" and series 6 of Doctor Who, and as such there will be references to the events in both the Discworld series and Doctor Who. Stumble across spoilers at your own risk, however, a detailed knowledge of either series is not needed.

* * *

><p>What was unknown to Vimes as he ran off down the street would have filled many a tome*, but the most important of these nuggets of unknowledge was that he was being watched by a figure in the shadows. Needless to say that if he had known he would have caught up with the two policemen, passed them at full sprint, and be halfway across the city by then! It was a tall creature, black as the night, the perfect hunter. None could fight it, none could escape it or fight it or-<br>THIS IS NOT MY IDEA OF A RELAXING HOLIDAY.  
>A complex look of deep sadness and irritation covered the creature's face. Or would have, if it had not been set in the permanent grin that unfortunately plagued those with very bony facial structures. Yet somehow it succeeded in managing to get his feelings across quite adequately.<br>SQUEAK!  
>Death turned from watching the faint figure and instead looked at his diminutive companion.<br>THERE IS NO NEED TO BE RUDE NOW.  
>SQUEAK! replied the small figure. It looked in many ways the same as its larger companion beside it, being robed in the darkest black and with a rather skeletal appearance, with a large scythe in its hand. Or in this case it the word claw was more appropriate. Death looked back down the street where there was no longer any sign of its previous occupant.<br>YOU ARE RIGHT, HE HAS GONE. I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD FOLLOW JUST IN CASE… THE WORST SHOULD HAPPEN.  
>There was a definite increase of happiness in the tone of Death, but this was not born out of any particular hatred of the living. Indeed, Death was fascinated by them, even if there were some rather peculiar behaviours of theirs that he just could not understand the existence of.* It was just that Death had been getting bored with this new world and felt the need to get a little work done. At this the two figures strode along the street in the direction of Vimes, who had he been aware of this development would have been considerably less contented than he actually was. Nobody paid any particular attention to the two individuals, after all, it wasn't as if a tall robed man walking with his pet robed rodent was unusual in any way.<br>~~~~~~~~~

Boring. That was the deep and insightful term which Constable Jones had inevitably decided on using to describe their day. Repeatedly. However, Macintosh didn't really notice. He had got used to it months ago. Privately he agreed wholeheartedly, although he would never had said anything of the sort. There really had not been much to do that day beyond patrolling. Well, there had been a brief chase with a very strange man who had been hanging around a crime scene not five minutes ago, but beyond that, nothing.  
>"Sometimes I hate kids Derek, I really, really do." said Jones bitterly, drumming a steadily increasing beat onto his truncheon with his fingers. "Why is it always us that get sent out to these pranks? I mean really, monsters eating their pets? Why can't it be that smug bugger Mitchell and his stupid little lackeys huh? Tell me why?"<br>Mackintosh just shrugged as they walked down the street. Everything was quiet, as it tended to be in that part of the city.  
>It was just then that Macintosh noticed that something wasn't right. Jones was still droning on, blindly unaware to the sense of unease that was snaking its way through the mind of his partner. While he scanned the area searching for whatever it was that put him ill at ease, he signalled Jones that something was amiss. It didn't take long for him to see that the door to one of the nearby houses was ajar, despite all of the lights being off, and begin to move towards it.<br>"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Jones, impatiently. He had long held the opinion that his partner was overly twitchy when it came to anything that could possibly not be absolutely normal, something to do with a freaky childhood incident or something. That's what he had heard in the station cafeteria anyway, not that he would ever bring it up with Derek. His partner was uncommunicative at the best of times. Muttering quietly to himself, he followed as the pair approached the forlorn looking building with a little more caution than either could rationally explain.  
>~~~~~~~~~<p>

As Vimes had known, it had not taken the two policemen long to lose scent and settle back into the gentle amble that went hand in hand with the patrol. They had for some reason beyond Vimes' understanding talked into their collars after losing sight of the strange man that invaded Vimes' mind. Beyond that things seemed to work similarly to Ankh-Morpork. Streetlights flickered on, illuminating the streets with an unearthly orange glow as the sun finally set. Still following silently along the street, he watched as one of the figures suddenly straighten. Vimes knew that stance. It was one that showed awareness of a hidden danger. Vimes had begun to feel it himself a few streets back, right before he was going to confront the two officers, and it had told him to follow and watch. Vimes trusted his instincts and had tried to look as nondescript as possible. Despite his obvious clothing differences, he hadn't attracted the attention of the two policemen that he was trailing. Now both of them were approaching the door. The (much) more talkative of the two slowly pushed it open, and Vimes had to resist the sudden urge run at them screaming to leave the building alone. Then they entered.  
>~~~~~~~~~<p>

Jones was really beginning to regret being pulled in to investigating this building. The entire place was shrouded in what seemed to be a thick darkness, with the only source of illumination being the strip of orange light that pierced into the hallway from the streetlights outside. A trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead. The whole place was freaking him out and causing his flesh to creep. The light seemed to offer a strange comfort and he desired nothing more than to stay within its borders.  
>"Hello? Anybody home?" The unexpected shout took Jones by surprise and caused him to spin around so quickly that Mackintosh had to sidestep to dodge his flailing elbow.<br>"What the hell are you doing Mac?" He whispered violently. Mackintosh just shrugged his apology and pointed upstairs, indicating that he would go explore upstairs. Despite splitting up being the very last thing that he wanted to do, he nodded and reached over to the light switch. Cursing loudly as it failed to bring any comforting light to the hall, he stood on the spot for well over a minute, listening to Macintosh's light tread on the floor above and staring into the pitch black room to his right. The very last thing that he wanted to do was enter the darkness. Chiding himself for his stupidity and childishness he turned until the doorway was dead ahead of him. It was just as he put one boot forward out of the light that he heard the terrified scream of his partner above, suddenly silenced.  
>Overcome by dread and fear he suddenly noticed his shadow, previously cast perfectly on the wall come alive and grow to monstrous proportions. A scream erupted from his throat as he turned and sprinted for his life straight towards the open front door that now represented his entire life. He wasn't even close.<br>~~~~~~~~~

Samuel Vimes was an incredibly courageous man, but even he had second thoughts at going any nearer as the screams rang through the air. These only lasted a second as he sprinted through the gate and toward the house as fast as he could manage. They may not have been his men, but the two officers had been policemen, and Vimes felt that he had a duty to keep them from whatever had made them so terrified.  
>"STOP!"<br>Stopping while going at full sprint is a surprisingly difficult endeavour, and although Vimes tried his best, he was already up the steps in mid-bound and headed straight for the open doorway when he felt a yank at the back of his uniform that completely halted his forward momentum. Unfortunately, this only applied to the top half of his body and his legs just kept going under their on volition until suddenly he was flat on his back staring up at the sky and feeling very sore. Up in an instant he tried again to reach the door, but a firm tug on his shoulder spun him around until he was face-to-face with a man. An odd man. Wearing tweed and suspenders and a very odd expression. It took a moment to place him, but Vimes knew where he had seen him before. The man from the chase! Before he could say a word, the man put both hands on his shoulders, looked him straight in the eye and said: "Now, listen to me very carefully, your life could depend on it. Absolutely, under no circumstances, even think about entering that house, understood?"  
>Before Vimes could even nod his understanding the man leant his entire body slowly to his left, peering over Vimes' shoulder into the house beyond, before pushing himself back up straight. As he relaxed his vice-like grip, a massive grin suddenly appeared, animating his entire face, and a wave of boundless energy seemed to wash over him as he lightly pushed Vimes aside, glanced at him and strode through the doorway, leaving Vimes too surprised to object all alone by the door.<br>~~~~~~~~~

Archchancellor Ridcully looked around with a definite sense of distaste. He had never really approved of all those newfangled ideas that emerged from the heads of the young wizards these days. There had been a time when the High Energy Magic Building had been the university quash courts. What had once been a symbol of glorious health and exercise was… well he didn't really know what it was, and that put it firmly into the "do not like" compartment of his mind.  
>"I'm afraid to say that I don't see the huge ruddy disaster here."<br>Ponder looked at him incredulously, "Sir, there's a dead body on the floor!"  
>Ridcully shifted slightly uncomfortably and replied with a simple, "yes Stibbons, there is." When the aforementioned Stibbons dared not to be comforted by these words Ridcully sighed, "believe it or not this is not my first corpse. You don't rise to Archchancellor without seeing one or two in your time."<br>"Well yes sir, but I do not think that you understand the enormity of-"  
>"-I remember when the only way you got ahead in life-"<br>"-the situation, you see before the light there was no-"  
>"-was through dead man's pointy shoes, a somewhat barbaric practice but-"<br>"-body, but now there is. Sir, are you listening to me?"  
>Under normal circumstances Ridcully would have completely ignored him and carried on regardless. However, through many generations of natural selection and due to the extremely competitive nature of wizardry, there lies within every wizard worth his salt, sometimes very deeply within, a spark of pure Survival. This spark had to be very attentive when a wizard reached as high as Archchancellor. Ponder had a strange look in his eye and suddenly Ridcully was getting an irresistible feeling that he should at least make a pretence at listening.<br>"Yes, yes Stibbons, no body, light, body. Not a tentacle in sight, so it is not from the dungeon dimensions. See Ponder?" he said, giving the corpse a quick kick, "nothing to worry about."  
>It was at that precise moment when there was a sudden increase in activity. It all started with a gasp from the direction of the now very much alive figure, causing several curious wizards to scream and faint where they stood.<br>The man seemed to recover from his previous disability rather quickly, stood and turned towards the now very shocked Archchancellor and Stibbons and loudly announced, "Well, that was one wild night!"  
>There wasn't much anybody could say to that really.<p>

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><p>1) The tomes in question were the fabled Books of Unknowledge, a detailed description of everything unknown to any living creature. It included such pressing issues as the meaning of life, the origin of the universe and just what exactly goes into Cut-me-Own-Throat Dibbler's food?<p>

2) Like hopscotch. Or chess. Death actually did hate chess.


End file.
